


Remember, Remember....

by greerwatson



Series: ITOWverse:  Autumn Holidays 2010 [8]
Category: RENAULT Mary - Works
Genre: Gen, Guy Fawkes Night, ITOWverse, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-10
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/pseuds/greerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various characters mill around discussing the best way to set up the fireworks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember, Remember....

The sun was at the horizon, and the light was getting dim behind the trees.  In the last hour, several people had turned up from different books, all looking around the clubhouse grounds, until they realized they were on the same quest and put their heads together.  The parade ground had been their choice:  it was clear of trees, and—well beaten by soldiers’ feet—almost clear of low vegetation. 

Most came with a collection of packages, under the arm or in string bags.  Some were individually wrapped in brown paper; others mingled gaudy colours that could not be distinguished at the distance.  Sticks poked up, shoulder high, from bags that dangled; or else stuck through the mesh to bang occasionally on the ground.  The Secretary spotted the group from the window, and came downstairs to find out what they wanted.  As she came out to the porch, she was approached by a remarkably handsome young man, with the easy manner of someone whose passage through life had always been lubricated by looks.

“I hope my delivery arrived safely,” he said, with a charming smile; and she realized that this was Jan Lingard.

The box had been enormous.  It was no wonder that he had preferred to let the postman labour with its carriage.  (Just like him, she thought, for she was familiar with his book.)  He thanked her, picked it up, and carried it back to the parade ground to overwhelm the contributions of the others.  They, meanwhile, had pooled the contents of their lesser packages.

“We’re going to need a post for the Catherine wheels,” Leo pointed out.  A few soldiers were requisitioned for brute labour.

After that, as far as the Secretary could see, they all appeared to be doing rough calculations of some kind.  This involved a lot of gesticulation, sometimes towards the house or the trees, accompanied by ever louder voices:  clearly some were more familiar with what was needed.  Or more articulate, or better at working out probable trajectories.  Or simply more concerned with safety.

The local Academy left the warmth of the library to come and see what was going on, drawing their cloaks tight against the November air.  After a while, Aristotle—inquisitive as ever—wandered over to the parade ground for a closer look.  He was promptly drawn into the argument.  As far as the watchers could make out, the final resolution seemed to be tending in the direction of the pond; after which there was much hammering in of stakes.

It _was_ cold.  The Secretary, who had only a thin cardigan over short sleeves, decided to go back inside and have a nice cup of coffee.  Everyone knew what they were doing, she was sure; and the results would be spectacular.


End file.
